


How (Not) to Seduce a Snake

by Attalander



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Banter, Big Boss is Oblivious, Implied Sexual Content, It mostly works out, M/M, Ocelot's a stalker, Only compliant with MGS 1-3, Post MGS3, Shower Sex, Showers, Sloppy Makeouts, until he's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“This is no laughing matter, Snake!” Ocelot sputtered, tossing his damp head like the overwrought drama-queen that he was. “If you weren’t so oblivious, things would never have come to this!”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Oblivious?” Snake repeated, “Come to what? How is it my fault that you’re attacking me in the shower?”</i></p><p>In which Ocelot flirts the only way he knows how, and finally gets through Snake's thick skull (with something other than a bullet).</p>
            </blockquote>





	How (Not) to Seduce a Snake

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after I had a dream that involved gun-twirling and showers. Not beta-ed, so any comments/critiques/corrections would be appreciated!
> 
> Also, even though Big Boss constantly calls Ocelot a "kid" in his head, Ocelot's over 21 and fully cognizant of what he's doing... It's Big Boss who's completely oblivious.
> 
> But, in his defense, Ocelot was raised by Colonel "Crotch-Grabber" Volgin and has no idea how normal human beings express affection.

Naked Snake AKA Big Boss AKA John (but only off the battlefield) growled out a noise of frustration. He longed to rub a hand over his forehead and sigh, but he couldn’t, because he had both arms wrapped around a struggling, blonde, Russian spy.

He had Ocelot pinned against him, one arm across his throat and the other holding the youth’s right wrist. He was gripping a little more tightly than strictly necessary, but he was tired and rather annoyed with Ocelot. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but the blonde had taken to jumping him in more and more awkward places for no reason Snake could discern, and this time he’d crossed a line.

“Damn it, Ocelot!” Snake groused, as the water dripping down his back grew colder, “If you’re going to assassinate someone in the shower, just _shoot_ them!”

Ocelot looked over his shoulder, handsome face scrunched up in a pout that made him look about four years old. “That’s what you think? You really think I’m trying to kill you, Big Bo–?”

“Don’t call me that!” Snake shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. First the hallway, then my office, my bedroom, the grounds… Those I could take as training, or an attempt to best me at CQC…”

Honestly, Snake would have been glad to train the boy, he had potential when it came to hand-to-hand combat… but no, Ocelot insisted on pouncing in the strangest places, and any time Snake offered to just _spar_ with him, Ocelot would make some excuse and slink off, like a startled house-cat trying to pretend it still had dignity.

In fact, with his blonde hair dripping into his annoyed-looking blue eyes, Ocelot resembled nothing so much as a kitten who’d fallen into the bathtub. Snake couldn’t repress a chuckle at the thought, making Ocelot’s eyebrows snap together with an almost audible “ _click”._

“This is no laughing matter, Snake!” Ocelot sputtered, tossing his damp head like the overwrought drama-queen that he was. “If you weren’t so oblivious, things would never have come to this!”

“Oblivious?” Snake repeated, “Come to what? How is it my fault that you’re attacking me in the shower?”

Because Ocelot could _not_ be comfortable like that, fully dressed and now sopping wet. And his gun… Snake looked down to confirm what he felt, or rather didn’t feel.

Ocelot’s holster was empty. Snake could have sworn the kid slept with that revolver, so why… Unless that was why Ocelot’s pants were bulging in front… but no, that wasn’t the right shape for a revolver…

“Figure it out, did you?” Ocelot purred from where Snake still had him pinned. 

Snake furrowed his brows and peered down at the front of Ocelot’s pressed uniform trousers.

“You’re hard,” Snake said, not entirely sure what to do with this information.

Ocelot rumbled agreement deep in his throat, and arched his wet, still-clothed body against Snaked wet, naked one. Snake’s eyes widened at the feeling of wet cloth, stretched tight over Ocelot’s firm ass, rubbing firmly against his dick.

“So are you, Snake…” Ocelot purred, and there was a victorious note in his voice.

“Huh.” So he was.

Ocelot muttered something in Russian about “dense, idiotic Americans” but Snake wasn’t really listening. He was too busy using the hand that was still gripping Ocelot’s wrist to trace the outline of the bulge in Ocelot’s pants with his thumb. The younger man let out a moan that bordered on the obscene, and moved his hips in a way that crossed that border and kept right on going.

And Snake? He might be a bit slow on the uptake when it came to interpersonal relations, but he could take a hint. At least, once it was practically shouted in his ear.

With a deft twist of his arms, Ocelot was turned and shoved against the far wall of the shower. Snake shut off the water with another swift movement, and was on Ocelot before he could draw another breath.

The younger man opened his mouth, but Snake never heard what he was planning to say. All he heard was a moan as he closed his own lips over them. Ocelot’s mouth opened wider in surprise, and Snake pressed his advantage by pressing his tongue inside.

Ocelot moaned and writhed, lean and flexible as his namesake, clutching at Snake’s broad, wet shoulders and digging his fingernails in. Over his shock, the younger man thrust out his tongue to duel Snake’s, turning the kiss into a battle for dominance.

Snake growled, an animal sound, as he bore Ocelot down to the floor of the shower. The room was rapidly cooling with the water turned off, and Snake wasn’t the kind of man to leave the kid shivering in wet clothes. Deftly, Snake started to unbutton Ocelot’s shirt.

The younger man groaned, throwing his head back with a Russian curse so filthy it would have made a sailor blush. It made Snake blush too, just a little, and he sat back on his heels to look at the man sprawled on the floor of his shower.

It took Ocelot a moment to register the lack of further stimulation. He shook his damp blonde head and glared up at Snake, pouting his kiss-reddened lips in a way that should not have been cute.

“What?” Ocelot asked, as commanding as any man could be when lying soaked and disheveled on the floor of his Commanding Officer’s shower.

“Just… we need to talk about this, don’t we? Are you sure you want–“

Ocelot let out a choked sound of frustration and waved his hands in the air, as though he’d lost all idea of what to do with them. 

“Hngggg–YES! Yes, you idiot, I’ve been wanting this ever since Tselinoyarsk!” Ocelot shouted as he flailed.

Snake chuckled again, leaning forward and bracing one hand on either side of Ocelot’s head.  “Tselinoyarsk, the Virgin Cliffs, huh?”

Ocelot blushed and looked away. “The name has nothing to do with it.”

“I see,” Snake said, with a bit of a purr in his own voice. “So you secretly wanted a ‘filthy American dog’ like me?”

Ocelot’s blush deepened, but his mouth twitched. “A filthy American dog who took out four of my men without firing a shot.”

Snake smiled at that, then his expression firmed again. “I’m twice your age, you know.”

Ocelot bristled and crossed his arms. “No! Nine years difference, that’s less than half my age and a third of yours.”

“I’m still much older than you,” Snake said, not knowing why he was so determined to give the kid an out, but knowing it was important. “I’m a busted up old soldier with one eye–“

“And _I_ shot your eye out.” Ocelot countered. It was a fair point, if anyone had a right to complain, it was probably Snake himself. And yet… ever since he’d first seen the kid with his smug smirk and his fancy gunplay, Snake could never seem to hold anything against him.

Snake reached out and traced one of the younger man’s damp, glistening cheekbones. 

“Adam,” he murmured, blue eyes locking on blue eyes.

“John,” Adamska replied, looking up at the older man with hunger blazing in his eyes. There was a challenge in his voice and gaze, daring Snake to do something about it.

And Snake? He was not one to back down from a challenge.


End file.
